Meet the HAndersons
by acommontater
Summary: 'What the hell.' He finds himself thinking. 'I have nothing better to do with my spring break than spend it with a potentially crazy person.'
1. The Park

So, this idea popped into my head a couple of weeks ago, and refused to leave until I'd written it down. And here you have it.

Klaine meets 'Meet the Robinsons'.

'T' for language and viewpoints that I do not condone.

Disclaimer; I own absolutely nothing of anything here.

* * *

><p>Fourteen year old Blaine Anderson hates life.<p>

At least, right at this moment he does.

Normally he tries to keep up a fairly cheerful demeanor- you know, 'have a positive attitude and so will everyone else' 'you smile and the world smiles with you'. All that crap that was hung on the guidance counselor's puke colored walls, covering up the awful color with too-cheery posters of bullshit sayings that hurt your eyes with the bright color-schemes. If he'd been sitting the uncomfortable lumpy chair reserved for the 'troubled youth' that visited the guidance office, the counselor would look over her horn-rimmed glasses at him and asked him to try and look back and focus on who or what his anger was directed at.

Blaine snorts to himself. Years of using bleach on her bee-hive hair-do must have permanently damaged the woman's brain. Or maybe it was the excessive bright red lipstick; could years of eating dyed wax affect your brain?

He sighs, and shifts his backpack to a more comfortable position on his shoulder as he continues walking.

He knew _exactly _who he was angry with right now.

Himself, for not keeping his mouth shut for five more minutes and landing himself in this predicament.

His mother, for not trying harder. But the majority of his rage was towards his father.

His mother at least _tries _to understand; his father refuses, point-blank, to accept him until he 'puts his head back on straight and starts acting like a normal teenage boy'.

His hand tenses around the strap of his bag as he recalls the last hour and a half.

* * *

><p><em>He walks in the door, trying to stay as quiet as possible so that he can escape to his room and avoid his parents. Maybe try and clean-up his face before dinner.<em>

_Blaine manages to get the door shut silently and make it to the bottom of the stairwell._

_"Blaine? Is that you?" His mother calls from the kitchen._

_He wants to ask her who else it could possibly be, but instead freezes with one foot on the steps, trying to stay invisible. This is an awful idea, he realizes about two seconds too late, as his battered and bruised body screams in protest as he tenses his muscles. An involuntary whimper of pain escapes him._

_"Baby?"_

_His mother comes walking out of the kitchen and turns on the foyer lights. Blaine tries to escape up the stairs before she can see just how bad..._

_She grabs his arm, but when he winces, takes his backpack and forces him to turn and face her by holding the straps._

_"Oh, honey. Again?"_

_He flinches away as she raises a gentle hand to caress his face. He has a split lip to go with the black eye this time, as well as the handprints on his arms were they'd grabbed and held him, and the smattering of bruises along his ribcage and stomach where they'd knocked the wind out of him...and then some._

_She sighs and lets him go._

_"Go get cleaned up, sweetheart. Dinner's in thirty minutes."_

_He just nods stiffly and retreats as fast as he can to his bedroom._

* * *

><p><em>When he walks quietly back downstairs, he hears raised voices. Blaine almost runs back upstairs, but curiosity makes him inch forward until he can hear the conversation fairly clearly.<em>

_"...third time this month that he's come home with bruises like that!...should lodge a complaint with the school..."_

_His mothers voice is equal part pleading and angry. Blaine edges closer, heart pounding. His father sighs. There is a rustle of paper as he puts down the business section of the newspaper that Blaine knows he always reads before dinner._

_"I could file a complaint with the school, but I see no reason too. He is bringing this upon himself. If he simply gave up this...attitude, they would leave him alone. The school won't do anything anyway, so I see no reason to go out of my way and waste my time on something that he could prevent on his own if he just...manned up." His tone is detached and cool._

_There is a rustle of paper as Blaine's father resumes reading his paper. Blaine suddenly feels as though the hall in closing in on him, suffocating him.__ Crushing him. His mother slams a dish onto the table._

_"He. Is. Your. Son. Who has been coming home and hiding from us because of what his peers are doing. _**_You_**_ should 'man up' and defend your only child." _

_Another rustle of paper and sigh from his father._

_"If he would just give up on this...this _faggy_ nonsense, and stop bringing this on himself, I could do something. But until then there is simply nothing..."_

_Blaine __can't take listening anymore. He walks into the dining r__oom, shaking._

_"...I can do."_

_"Will do, you mean."_

_His parents look up when he speaks. Blaine clenches his fists at his sides, trying to keep them from shaking._

_"You won't do anything because if you dare to defend your gay son then it's like you might actually approve of me for once. And you can't have that. Not when your son is a** fag**." He spits the words at his father, relieved that his voice doesn't shake. "People at work might talk, and you are so concentrated on keeping up your stupid reputation that you are **scared** of what might happen to you. Because you are a **coward**. You have no idea, **no idea**, what I go through at school everyday." He lets out a harsh laugh. "I would be on cloud nine if all people did was talk about me behind my back. But they shout it at me in the halls, paint it on my locker, and shove it in my backpack. Homo, faggot, cocksucker..."_

_His mother flinches at his words. His fathers face is impassive, merely waiting for him to finish._

_"Blaine, sweetie, don't say things like that about yourself." She interrupts his angry rant._

_"Why not?" He challenges. "__It's not like I don't hear that, and worse, at school everyday. That what they think of me. What _**_he_**_ thinks."_

_Blaine nods jerkily at his father._

_"Why should I think any differently?"_

_Blaine is breathing heavily by this point, trying desperately not to cry. _Real men don't cry, son.

_His father merely looks at him over his paper, seemingly unfazed._

_"Blaine, you are an Anderson man. You know full well why I have to uphold my reputation. I can't have a negative attitude like this under my roof. If you are going to continue with this unreasonable conduct, you cannot stay in my house."_

_He makes to go back to his paper. Blaine stares at him, hurt and outrage making him unable to form coherent words. His mother stands to the side, looking nervously from husband to son. Blaine gapes for a moment, then finally recovers._

_"Fine." They look back at him. "I'll go. I don't want to live with cowards anyway."_

_He runs out of the room before they can say anything else._

_No one comes after him when he slams the front door behind him._

* * *

><p>Blaine shakes his head and tries to focus on happier things in his life. Not that there are many of those, but there are some.<p>

_Not_ the fact that his father wouldn't accept him. Or that his mother couldn't stand up for him when it really counted.

_Happy thoughts_, he reminds himself. Like the Sadie Hawkins Dance.

Blaine allowed himself to grin giddily. The dance was two weeks away and he was going _with another boy_.

Just as friends, but still.

He began to drift off into cheerful daydreams when a flicker of motion caught his eye.

Instantly, he tenses, watching the motion with his peripheral vision. Blaine suddenly feels very exposed and venerable. He is sitting on a park bench near the small playground at the end of his neighborhood. There is a strip of wooded area a few yards in front of him, but it is nowhere near enough coverage for him to hide in. The rest of the area around him is open grass fields, broken only by carefully planted baby trees in a strict straight line.

Whomever is currently trying to sneak up on him is darting from one thin tree to the next, apparently under the illusion that the tiny stick-trees hide them completely. Blaine rolls his eyes and sighs.

"Look, I can see you, alright? If your going to beat me up, at least be up front about it. Someone's already beaten you to the punch anyway."

He winces at his choice of words. At least his voice didn't shake.

"I'm not gonna beat you up."

Blaine bites back a scream and jumps out of his skin as a soft voice speaks right in his ear. Clutching his chest as he tries to slow his heart rate down to normal, Blaine turns to find a boy, slightly younger than him, standing next to the bench. He is frowning down at Blaine.

The other boy is decidedly odd-looking. His jacket is made up entirely of oddly cut angles and strategically placed buttons. Dark skinny jeans (the kind that Blaine wants to wear, but is to afraid to at school) are tucked into high, laced up black boots. Weird, bright purple, fingerless gloves cover his hands. It is early spring, and a nice day, but the boy has a thick, knitted, dark-green wool hat on that covers more that the required amount of his head. It completely covers his hair and falls below his ears, and nearly covers his dark eyebrows. Bright, green eyes are staring at Blaine with concern.

Blaine realizes that he's staring and looks away. The kid sits down on the bench next to him, still _staring _at him.

"Sorry I scared you. I didn't mean too. I just had to make sure that you were the right person."

Blaine sighs.

"Look, kid, I don't know who you're looking for, but I've not had the best day and I can't deal with some weird stalker on top of it. So if you could just leave me alone and...WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Blaine jerks away suddenly as the kid reaches out a hand to touch his face. The kid is staring at his black eye, a faintly horrified look on his face.

"Someone hit you!" Blaine snorts at his shocked tone.

"Yeah, I noticed." The kid is still staring, shocked.

"But you're Blaine Anderson."

"Yes...I know that too." He eyes the boy cautiously. "Um, who are you?"

The kid jerks out of his daze.

"Sorry! I forgot that you don't know me." He sticks out a hand for Blaine to shake. "I'm Eth-um...Evan. Evan Hu-...Anderson. Evan Handerson."

He seems quite pleased with himself at being able to remember his own name. Blaine does not shake his hand.

"Okay. Evan. I'm gonna be really blunt right now. You're kinda freaking me out. So if you could just, you know, go home and leave me alone, that'd be great."

Evan gives him a strange look before his words sink in. His face drops.

"Oh. Right. Sorry, I tend to come on a little strong." Evan gives him another long look. "Why are you sitting on a park bench at time of day anyway?"

"Maybe I can't go home right now." Blaine snaps. He's tired and achy and this kid _will not leave him alone._ Evan frowns at him again.

"Why don't you just go to Lima then?" He seems genuinely confused. Blaine stifles a laugh as he stands up to walk away, grabbing his bag.

"Why on earth would I go to _Lima? _That town is even smaller and more backwards than this one. People like me get treated just as badly there, if not worse."

He starts to walk away, feeling Evan still staring at his retreating back.

_I'll go somewhere else for a while_, he thinks, _then come back here when the kid is gone and sleep on the bench_.

He hears Evan start to yell after him, and just walks faster.

* * *

><p>Behind him, 'the kid' stares after him, a faintly nauseous feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.<p>

He checks his fingers and wiggles his toes. All accounted for. Well, there was one good thing.

But that didn't change the fact that he had screwed up big time. He heaves a sigh.

"Well, shit. Dad's gonna kill me."

* * *

><p>AN; Well well well? What did you think? Do you want more? Should I keep going? Tell me tell me tell me tell me. Please.

Pllllease.

~commontater


	2. Evan'

Thank you so much for the favorites and reviews!

and onward we go...

* * *

><p>The first thing Blaine realizes when he wakes up is that he is <em>cold<em>. He shivers, and then realizes that that was a _terrible_ idea, because it just makes his body realize _exactly_ where all of his aches and pains are.

Park benches are not as comfortable as they seem in the movies.

Wincing, Blaine sits up slowly and starts to stretch out his stiff body. As he rubs grit from his eyes and yawns, the events of yesterday come rushing back to him. He drops his face into his hands and sighs. At least it was spring break and he didn't have to deal with school for another week.

"I'm not crazy, you know."

Blaine jumps, accidentally jamming the heel of his palm into his black eye. Swearing softly, he manages to stop himself from falling off the bench. He turns to find the kid from yesterday sitting on the ground next to the bench, frowning up at him. Blaine sighs as his heart rate goes back to normal.

"Do you normally wake people up like this?" He inquires. Evan ignores him.

"I'm _not_. I figured that must've been why you ran off yesterday. You thought that I was crazy, and that scared you off. Well, I'm not….although, a lot of people have told me so." He adds thoughtfully.

Blaine blinks at him. It is too early for this.

"Well, if you aren't crazy, what are you? Suicidal?"

"What?" Evan blinks at him, wide eyed. "Why would you say something like that?"

Blaine stares at him. The kid is serious.

"And you wouldn't believe me even if I told you. About what I am, I mean." Evan continues.

Blaine eyes him for a minute, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Okay, I'll bite." He says finally, throwing his hands up and sighing. "Try me. I haven't got anything better to do today."

He leans forward, propping his body up on his legs, and waits for Evan to speak.

Evan hesitates, and then sighs.

"Okay, fine. I'm from the future." He screws his eyes shut and waits for Blaine to start laughing at him.

Blaine does not laugh. He just nods to himself and leans back against the bench. He stares up at the sky for a few minutes, watching the clouds fly by.

"Well," he says finally. "One of us is crazy. Either I've finally cracked and have dreamed up a person who can get me out of here, or you're delusional."

He pauses for a beat.

"Or maybe both. Maybe we've both lost it and are sitting in some padded room together, laughing wildly at thin air and rocking against the restraints."

Evan looks confused for a moment, then brushes it off and pouts.

"I _told you_ that you wouldn't believe me."

They sit in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

Blaine wonders a little more about his theory, then shakes his head.

_What the hell_, he finds himself thinking, _it's not like I've got anything else to do today._

Blaine sighs again (he's been doing that an awful lot lately- that can't be good for his oxygen intake. Can too much air hurt your brain?) shakes his head and looks back down at Evan.

"Alright. So, say, by some chance, you are telling the truth, are not delusional, and are really from the future. How would you prove it?"

Evan whips his head up to look at him, gaping.

"You believe me?"

Blaine shrugs.

"Stranger things have happened. And it's not like I've got anything going for me here. Maybe the future is a better place."

Evan scrambles to his feet and plops down onto the bench next to Blaine. His odd hat is crooked, like he just jammed it on his head while running out the door. Evan is also wearing the same clothes as yesterday. The asymmetrical jacket, the tall laced-up boots; he has his chin propped up on one purple gloved hand. Blaine opens his mouth to ask again, but Evan holds up a finger for silence.

"Shhhh, I'm thinking about how to prove to you I'm from the future."

Blaine sits back. After a long minute, Evan grins and sits up.

"Got it!...maybe. What grade are you in?"

"Um, finishing freshman year. Why?"

Evan gives him a pleading look.

"Don't…don't hate me, alright?" He takes a deep breath.

"Last summer, you came out to your parents. Your mom, though a little shocked, at least tried to be okay with it. But your dad…wasn't as accepting."

Blaine feels himself tense up, a hand bunching up the material of his pants as Evan keeps talking.

"He tried spending more time with you, doing 'manly things'- you guys fixed up a car together and you hated every second of it."

Blaine interrupts, trying to keep his voice steady.

"What does this have to do with you being from the future?"

Evan gives him a nervous look.

"Because you haven't met…I mean…you haven't told anyone about this stuff. No one knows except you."

"And you apparently. But this is stuff you could know just from neighborhood and school gossip. It doesn't prove anything."

"He hit you." Evan says quietly. Blaine goes very still.

"Last summer, when you came out to your parents. Your father hit you." Evans voice cracks. "If anyone had asked, you would have told them that you fell or ran into a door. But, no one did ask."

Blaine is frozen on the bench next to him.

"How…" Blaine tries to clear his throat. "How do you know that?"

He looks at Evan, and realizes that the other boy is crying quietly.

"S-sorry." Evan mutters, swiping at his eyes. "I cry to easily, like my dad. Doesn't matter what emotion it is; just waterworks everywhere if it's strong enough. Julia teases me about it all the time."

"Who?"

"My sist- dammit." He claps his hands over his face. "I shouldn't have said anything about that." Evan grinds the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. "and I know all that because _you_, well, future-you, told me."

Blaine is still a little skeptical. He shakes off the little voice that says that Evan is telling the truth, or at least believes he is. Blaine sighs again.

"Well, even it future me told you that…if you're from the future, why don't you just show me how you got here?"

Evan stares at him for a second. Then he slaps himself on the forehead.

"Duh. Duh, Eth." He jumps up suddenly. "C'mon, I'll show you."

He starts to walk towards the strip of trees nearby, glancing over his shoulder to see if Blaine was following him. Blaine shrugs to himself, and then grabs his backpack.

Again, it wasn't like he had anything better to do today.

* * *

><p>Ah, sorry for such a short chapter. I hate to end it there and leave you all hanging, but I'll be gone for the week with no internet access and wanted to get at least this much to ya'll before I left.<p>

I realized that I sounded very whiny and needy in my last note- it was late. Now, it is early.

Leave me plenty of reveiws to come back to, duckies!

~commontater


	3. Bending Time

So, I know that the last chapter was a little boring, but I still what to know what you think! Even if it's just 'this is boring- put in more plot, etc.'

Anyway, stuff starts to happen in this chapter! Woohoo!

Onwards!

* * *

><p>Once he's sure that no random passer-bys will spot them, Evan stops and turns to face Blaine.<p>

They're standing in the middle of a small clear area between the trees, the low-growing shrubs and grass muffling any sound. Blaine eyes him warily and Evan sighs, and reaches into one of his many pockets.

"You need to stop looking as though you expect me to suddenly turn on you and start beating you up. Because I'm _not _gonna do that. Why on earth would I go through so much trouble to find you just to hit you?"

Blaine does not look convinced. He just rearranges his expression until it's a neutral poker-face of indifference. He waves a hand.

"Well you've managed to get me out of sight from any passing person in the middle of a wooded area. You were just about to prove to me how you are _not _a psychotic killer out to get me, but instead a person from the future."

Evan rolls his eyes and then pulls his hand out of his pocket, extending it for Blaine to examine.

"Oh, _wow_." Blaine breathes, his inherent curiosity and wonder distracting him from his fear for a moment. He leans over Evans palm to look closer. "What _is_ it?"

_It _is a small metal disk, about four inches in diameter, which is sitting on Evans hand. The surface is a dark blue- Blaine can't figure out if it's metal or stone- and is covered in small squiggles and mathematical symbols. There are slight grooves cut into the edges of the disk, and, as he looks closer, Blaine realizes that the tiny notches are to adjust the setting of the…whatever it is.

"It's a time machine." Evan answers. "Well, not really, but its real name is really long and boring, and it's really pretty much a time machine. My uncles accidentally made it a few years ago."

Blaine looks up.

"Accidentally?" He seems to remember his nerves as he steps away from the tiny machine.

"Well, Sam was working on this private project for NASA, and Noah was fixing some of Arties camera stuff for his movie. Somehow they ended up in the same workspace, Sam grabbed the wrong part and…" He spreads his hands to mimic a small explosion. "Uncle Sam figured out how it worked- he tried to explain it to me, but it's really complicated. It was originally about something to do with bending light- I think the camera lens or something?- but, instead it, like, messes with time."

"Oh." Blaine blinks. "And it works."

"Yep." Evan says happily. "They've made a few better versions since this one, but they were in more secure safes."

Blaine gives him an incredulous look.

"You _stole_ it from you uncles?"

Evan rolls his eyes.

"You really think that they would let a fourteen year old wander around with a time machine in his pocket? Honestly, I'm not from _that_ far into the future."

"Okay. So, you're really from the future, not delusional." Blaine frowns. "But that still doesn't explain why you needed to find _me_."

Now it's Evans turn to suddenly be nervous.

"Well….I kinda need your…help. If you'll come with me."

Blaine folds his arms.

"Why me?" he asks suspiciously. Evan worries at his bottom lip for a moment before answering.

"Because you're the only one who knows how it was supposed to go before it got messed up."

Blaine opens is mouth to ask, then closes it again, thinking hard.

"Fine. I'll help you." He holds up a finger as Evan grins at him. "On one condition."

"O-kay." Evan says cautiously.

"After I help you in the future, you take me back to my past and I get to warn myself not to come out to my parents."

Evan stares at him.

"But…." Then he shakes his head, glancing down at the tips of his fingers. "Alright."

They shake on it. Blaine puts his backpack on his shoulders and Evan fiddles with the grooved edges of the time machine.

"Okay!" He says finally. "All ready to go. Are you?"

He looks up at Blaine, who shrugs.

"Ready as I'll ever be. Let's go to the future."

Evan grins and holds out the hand with the time machine. He presses the center and the surface begins to glow blue. A weird suction seems to fill both boys ears.

"Grab my hand tight and don't let go!" Evan yells.

Blaine grabs his hand in a death-grip as the edges of reality start to waver and bend….then disappear.

* * *

><p>I'll be gone for another week- let me know what you think about the story so far or what you think will happen! (I have a basic plot, but I am always interested to hear your ideas!)<p>

Also- the way I picture the time machine working is something akin to how Mrs. Who describes 'wrinkleing' time in 'A Wrinkle In Time'.

Until then- Ciao.


	4. Everything is Faster

Well hello there. Long time no update, huh? *nervous chuckle*

* * *

><p>The world came back into focus abruptly. Blaine is reather pleased that he doesn't collapse or throw up or something equally embarrassing. He feels as though he'd gotten the wind knocked out of him whilst on a particularly violent amusment park ride that made him extraordinarily dizzy and sick to his stoumach.<p>

To his relief, Evan didn't look much better off.

"Well," Evan says, after they've recovered slightly. "Welcome to the future."

When Blaine feels as though his innards are going to stay where they were supposed to, he straightens up and looks around. He frowns.

"Um, it looks the same."

Evan rolled his eyes.

"Well of course it does _here_. We haven't moved." Blaine opens his mouth to ask, but Evan cuts him off. "We haven't left Ohio yet. We've moved in time, not space, see?"

He turns his back to Blaine and starts rummaging in the brush for something Blaine can't see.

"So," Evan continues, his voice slightly muffled. "We've got to go to New York. Ohio's pretty much the same as it is in your time, boring, and New York is where home is. Gotcha!"

He pulls a large scooter shaped object from the brush and brambles triumphantly, looking immensely pleased with himself. The scooter-thing is silver, the handle about three feet high, with a wide, flat base. However, Blaine is not sure what to call it because…

"Shouldn't that have wheels?" Blaine asks, staring at the decidedly _flat_ metal bottom of the scooter. Where wheels _should_ go there is only a flat metal disk surrounded by a thick rubber rim.

"No?..." Evan gives him a curious look. He pushes some buttons on the handle and the bottom starts to glow a dim blue, accompanied by a dull humming sound.

Evan swings one foot up onto the scooter, then looks over at Blaine, grinning.

"Hop on!"

Blaine clutches his bag and stays right where he is- on very _solid_ ground. Not some tiny little metal death trap.

"There is no way we're getting to New York on _that_."

Evan rolls his eyes again – Blaine is staring to wonder if Evan might pull a muscle in his face from rolling his eyes to far.

"Of _course not_. I have my cycle stored at my grandpas, like, an hour away on my scooter. It's perfectly safe. And I'm of-age too, nearly sixteen." He adds at Blaine's doubting expression.

"There is no way you are nearly sixteen." Blaine says flatly, not moving.

Evan rolls his eyes, again.

"Okay, so maybe more like _nearlyfifteeninsixmonths_. But c'mon," He continues hurriedly as Blaine opens his mouth to protest. "The time machine worked fine, didn't it?"

Blaine sighs resignedly.

"I don't have much choice, do I now?"

"Nope!" Evan replies cheerfully. "Lets go!"

Blaine makes sure that his backpack is secure, and then steps up behind Evan.

"If, by some chance, I ever have kids in the future, I am _never_ letting them get one of these." He mutters, eyeing the machine. Evans foot slips and he nearly falls of the scooter. "Are you alright?"

"Fine!" Evan squeaks, and then clears his throat. "Off we go!"

* * *

><p>"Um, Blaine you can open your eyes now. And you need to let go of me, please."<p>

Blaine lifts his face from Evans back and unscrews his eyes, which had clamped shut the instant the scooter started moving. Then he attempts to unlock his arms from around Evans ribcage- which proves to much more difficult than he anticipated.

"Um, I think I'm stuck." He admits after tugging futilely at his cramped hands for a moment.

Evan laughs, and then stops abruptly as he tries to pry Blaine's fingers apart. After a minute, Blaine abruptly topples off of the scooter. Evan hops down and turns the machine off. Blaine groans as he stands up.

"I am getting the distinct impression that the future doesn't like me very much." He flexes his fingers to make sure that they still work.

"Well, of course it doesn't." Evan says matter-of-factly. "You're from the past. And we're at Gramps place."

He walks past Blaine- who is looking around as though the future might drop an anvil on his head- and shoves a hat over Blaine's wild curls.

"Hey!" Blaine yelps, tugging the hat off and trying to flatten his hair. It remains stubbornly curly.

"Make sure that covers your hair!" Evan calls over his shoulder.

"What? Why?"

"Just do it!" Evan disappears into a garage, towing the scooter with him.

Blaine huffs and shoves the hat back over his head. It's a big red baseball cap; at least it isn't a thick woolen hat like Evan wears, and the baseball cap doesn't clash too horribly with his outfit. However, it does fall into his eyes. He shoves it back up, grumbling, as he follows Evan into the large, very professional looking garage. Blaine shudders.

After last summer, there is no way on earth he was ever entering an auto-repair shop again. Too many bad memories. He makes a mental note to never _ever_ date a mechanic. Even a cute one. Well, maybe a cute one. He shakes his head and sneaks around an oily bench.

"Evan!" He hisses. "Evan, I don't think that we should be in here!"

He walks around a car that is suspended on some of the equipment, trying not to touch anything. Finally he spots Evan, locking up his scooter. Evan looks up at him, frowning.

"This is my grandpa's garage. We're fine. My cycle is over there, if you want to chuck your bag in the trunk." He waves a hand vaguely and then goes back to fiddling with the complicated lock.

Blaine looks to where Evan gestured, and his stomach drops.

A regular behemoth of a vehicle is sitting there. It's at least twice the size of the SUV's back in Blaine's time, pitch black, with large spikes on the corners. Blaine could fit easily into one of the wheels. He lets out a tiny squeak of horror. A loose glove smacks him in the back of the head.

"Not the big one, dummy. That's Uncle Finn and Uncle Noah's for their off-road stuff. _That_ one's mine." Evan walks up next to him and points to a much, _much_ smaller silver vehicle parked next to the spiky tank.

Blaine sighs in relief at the reassuring sight of what looks like a slightly larger version of a two motorcycles squashed together. It has a very sleek design and is stylishly simple.

"My dad designed it." Evan says proudly. "Well, the main part. Grandpa worked out the details for the motor and stuff, but Dad did all the main bits. Had companies begging him to work for them, or at least sell them some more designs, but he turned them all down."

Blaine ogles the silver vehicle. He might not like working with cars and such, but it didn't mean that he couldn't appreciate them.

"Your _dad_ designed that? Why on earth would he refuse to do more? It's beautiful!"

"I know, right?" Evan agrees. Then he shrugs resignedly. "He did design a few more; like that truck for Finn and Noah, but he say he likes his clothing line and interior designing better. The vehicles were just for a bet with Gramps." Evan makes a face. "Why on earth he like wedding planning better than cars I'll never understand."

Blaine looks over at Evan, startled by this new information, but before he can ask any questions, the door from the house to the garage opens and kindly looking older woman pokes her head out.

"I thought I heard voices! I thought that you'd left already, dear*." She looks at Evan. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Lane, Grandma. He's from Westerville. He's never been to New York, so his parents gave their permission for him to come over for the weekend." Evan says smoothly.

Blaine can feel his eyebrows travel upwards at how easily Evan tells the (mostly) lie. Evan shoves him towards the cycle as his Grandmother starts to take a closer look at him. Then, thankfully, she glances at her watch.

"Ooo, I need to go- your grandfather and I are going to be late! Have fun in New York boys!" She winks at Evan, waves to both of them and then disappears. Blaine laughs at Evans mortified expression.

"I like your grandmother."

"Everyone does." Evan groans and thumps his head on the roof of the cycle. "Just so you're forewarned, my family is really weird. Like, really, really weird."

Blaine stifles another laugh at Evans mournful expression.

"Oh, come on. They can't be that bad… can they?" He adds cautiously at Evans dark look. Evan straightens up and tugs his hat back down.

"The only people who believed me when I came out as straight were my lesbian aunts. My one aunt just looked sad for a moment and asked me if that meant I was a shark, and, after my other aunt stopped laughing, she just said 'Excellent. Hobbit numero uno owes me fifty bucks.' Apparently there was a huge betting pool set up after I said that I wanted tap and ballet shoes for my eighth birthday."

Blaine bit his lip to keep from laughing at Evans disgruntled expression.

"So, you're not gay?" Evan gives him a look.

"NO. Not that there's anything wrong with that- I mean, like, half my family is gay. But nobody believes me."

Blaine gives Evans designer clothing and lace-up boots a meaningful look.

"Okay,** that** is _not_ my fault. You try growing up with a dad who's a fashion designer/co-editor-in-chief of one of the leading fashion magazines in the world and _not_ have good fashion sense. Not to mention that 'off-the-rack' is the equivalent to a very nasty cuss word in our house."

Blaine laughs again.

"I _wish_ my family was like that."

An awkward pause suddenly fills the garage. Evan clears his throat.

"We should get going. It'll take about an hour and a half to get there."

He opens the door on his side and climbs in. The tiny trunk on the back clicks open and Blaine stuffs his backpack in before opening his door and climbing in. The he realizes something.

"An hour and a half?" Evan laughs at his expression.

"We _are_ in the future, Blaine. And in the future," He starts the cycle. "Everything is a lot…._faster_."

And they're off again.

* * *

><p>I know, I know. It got away from me. But you get real plot and new characters in the next chappie! *winning smile*<p>

*crickets* Let me know your thoughts or if I need to clarify anything.

Ciao, my lovelies!- commontater


	5. The Best Laid Plans

_Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee... _Hi all!

Thank you so much for your kind reveiws! (For some reason the link to reply never works when I try to pull it up from my e-mail, otherwise I would respond to each of you individually!)

Onward, ho!

* * *

><p>Just as Evan had said, an hour and a half later they were screeching to a halt outside a large apartment complex. Or, at least, what Blaine had assumed was an apartment complex until he grabbed his bag and followed Evan inside. His jaw dropped as they walked through the spinning doors to where the lobby should be.<p>

Well, it still was a lobby- so to say. The area where a welcome desk would be had been transformed into a long bar that ran the whole way down the wall, complete with soft leather stools on brass stands. Large tiles of smooth white and black marble tiles made up the floor. Small decorative sofas are arranged in tasteful groups around shining coffee table of varying antiquity, giving the over-all effect of the room being an extremely large formal living room or parlor. Mirrors and art are interspersed along the wall, and Blaine thinks he spots a low stage at the far end, but before he can explore the room any further Evan yells at him.

"Are you coming or not?" His voice echoes in the large space, bouncing off of the floors and ceiling. Blaine tears himself away from the grand room and hurries over to where Evan is standing, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Oh, hurry up would you?" Evan mutters.

It takes Blaine a second to realize that they're standing in front of three large elevator doors. The doors on the far left are steel; warning stickers are on and around them and an ID card swiper is on the wall next to them. The doors in the middle, the ones that they're standing in front of, are a soft burnished brass and free of any special devices. The doors to the right are silver, with a thin chain imprinted on the doors. A fancy lock sits on the wall next to the silver doors with scrolling elegant script under it.

This is the personal studio of…

But before Blaine can read whose studio it is, the middle elevator arrives.

"Thank goodness," Evan says. "I swear this thing get slower each…"

The doors open with a soft _ding_. Evan's voice dies away.

"…time." He finishes weakly.

A tall girl stood in the elevator, arms crossed, icy blue eyes fixed on evan. the girl smirked at the expression on Evans face as she stuck a foot out to stop the elevator doors from closing.

"Was wondering when you'd get back, little brother." The girl said casually.

Blaine is starting to feel that he is living in a perpetual state of confusion. Or maybe that's just what the future was. Is. Will be. Confusing and stressful to think about, confusing and stressful to live in.

The girl looks nothing like Evan; who was only an inch taller than Blaine, with dark gold-green eyes. The girl in the elevator was a good three inches taller than Blaine, with straight brown hair pulled up into a tight ponytail out of her striking eyes. If Blaine had been straight, he would have thought that she was hot. As it was she was merely very ascetically pleasing. The smug smirk still hung on her lips.

"So, Gram called. I didn't know that you had any friends in Westerville. Does Dad know that you've invited a friend over during…"

And then the girl looks at Blaine for the first time. She gives a small shriek and jumps back. Blaine had taken off the baseball cap that Evan had shoved back on his head after they parked the cycle in an attempt to make his hair behave.

He jumped when the girl screamed; did his hair really look that bad? Evan jumped into the elevator holding out a hand beseechingly to her, pulling Blaine in after him. The doors slid shut behind them with a quiet _ding!_.

The girl seemed to recover her voice. She pointed a shaking finger at Evan.

"You…you…_How did you manage to…_." She splutters wildly for a second.

"You know that he can't be here!" She jabs her finger in Blaine's direction. Blaine flinches.

"What on earth would posses you to…"Evan cut her off desperately.

"Jules, look, I'll explain alright? But you gotta help me get him to our place without letting dad catch us." The girl sighs and drops her arm.

"You do know that Dad'll lose it if he finds out. And that it's new model week. And Papa isn't here."

Evan winces horribly, still pleading with his eyes.

"If he catches us, you are taking the full blame mister."

Evan sighs in relief and the girl turns to Blaine, who was inspecting the buttons on the wall instead of paying attention to the conversation.

They didn't have floor numbers like regular elevators did; instead there were names or pictures. The button at the very bottom was red, with skull and crossbones, and a sign that read 'do not press under any circumstance'. At the top, where the button to the top floor or penthouse would be, was a silver plate with a lock next to it. Inbetween these two were buttons of various colors and shapes. A bright yellow smiley face instead of the third floor, red dance shoes in the place of floor two, a purple music note where the eighth floor should be. Eighteen floors in all, not counting the basement or the lobby (which did have a normal button).Evan reaches past Blaine to press the button where the tenth floor would normally be; in its place is a small gold canary.

Blaine suddenly realizes that they've stopped talking and are staring at him. He straightens up hastily and backs away from the array of buttons. The two others are still staring at him.

"That's so weird." The girl says finally, an odd expression on her face.

"I know, right?" Evan says conversationally. Blaine clears his throat awkwardly.

"Evan, I'm standing right here. And you haven't introduced us yet." He gestures to the girl.

"Oh! Sorry," Evan steps to the side. "Blaine, this is my sister, Julia. Julia, this is..."

"Blaine, yeah, I know."

Blaine extends his hand for her to shake. She shakes his hand, a perturbed expression on her face. The doors ding open and Blaine misses the silent exchange between the two siblings as he stares at the living room that the elevator doors have opened up to. Julia drags Evan out after her as she steps out.

"Blaine, if you'll excuse us for just a quick second, my _**dear brother**_ and I need to have a quick word."

Blaine follows them into the living room, feeling rather dazed.

"Sure, sure." He waves them on absently, dropping his much abused backpack onto the floor with a thump.

"We'll be right back! Don't go anywhere!"Evan yells as his sister drags him down the hall.

Blaine just nods vaguely, still entranced by the room. He doesn't want to move. If he does he might mess something up. It looks like a room straight out of the fancy catalogues his mother is forever going on about. There is a small white tiled area right in front of the elevator, where a small table, shoe rack, and coat stand are places, but the rest of the floor in the room in covered in a plush, gold-hued carpet. Couches that are simotamiously comfortable looking and stylish are set around a large center table and multimedia entertainment center. There is an array of what looks like family pictures on the top, but before Blaine can get a better look, the elevator doors ding open.

A rather frazzled looking man pokes his head into the living room. The ends of his (clearly dyed) blonde hair are smoking slightly and the man's eyebrows are completely blackened. Thick goggles hold his smoking hair out of his face as he attempts to juggle some complicated scientific instruments. Blaine rushes over to help as the man nearly drops one of the many objects he's carrying. Blaine catches a large flask filled with a glowing green liquid that is smoking slightly.

"Thanks, Ethan." The man says, relief filling his voice. "Vitally important that is. Could you do me a favor and get that to 'Cedes before she kills me?"

Blaine opens his mouth."I'm not..."

"Thanks!"The man says brightly, the doors sliding shut with a cheerful _ding_!

Blaine glances around, hoping that Julia or Evan would reappear and tell him what on earth had just happened. The room stays obstinately empty. Blaine eyes the glowing, smoking flask. The sooner he got rid of this, the better. He'll just go find the man and ask him to explain what he ment. Blaine presses the button for the elevator and the doors ding open.

* * *

><p>Julia pulls her brother into the first bedroom. She crosses her arms and glares at him.<p>

"Alright explain. Wait," She holds up a hand. "Before you get into it, _why_ was he calling you Evan?"He sighs.

"I didn't want him to get influenced by the future, so I kind of …gave him a…. false name." He trails off into mumbling at the end.

"Ethan!"

"He doesn't suspect anything!" Ethan reassures her. "Honest!"

Julia sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes

"So, what on earth possessed you to break into our Uncles lab, steal a time machine, and go to the past and get _him_?"

Silently, Ethan pulls out a small leather notebook from one of his many pockets. Julia stares, agast.

"Oh, Ethan."

There is a large dark stain on the front of the book, and about a third of the pages look crumpled and blackened.

"It's mostly his earlier stuff, so I figured that a younger him would remember the words better-you know how he's terrible at remembering the words. But, um," Ethan hesitates.

"But?"Julia promts, bracing herself.

"I kinda...went back to far." Ethan mumbles.

"What!" Julia just barely prevents herself from screaming. Taking a deep breath she asks; "Exactly how far is 'too far back'?"

Ethan gives her a very weak version of a winning smile.

"Um, they don't meet for like, two more years?"

Julia doesn't say anything, just sits down on the bed next to him. After a long moment of silence, she smacks him in the back of the head.

"Ouch! Jules!"

"You're an idiot. You do realize that you've potentially nullified your total existence? If you don't put things back, you might cease to exist! Just put him back in his own time and come clean to Pops about the notebook."

Ethan gives her a miserable look.

"I can't. I promised Pops before he left that I would take care of his stuff while he was away. I've disappointed him and Dad enough already. And besides, I kinda promised Blaine that I'd…"

Ethan stops talking abruptly.

"What did you promise him, Ethan?" Julia asks flatly.

"Something."

"Ethan."

"I can't tell you, alright?"

"Fine!"Julia throws up her hands. "Let's go get him and figure out what we're going to do."

Ethan follows her back out to the living room.

"Blaine?"Julia calls. They enter the room.

It's empty.

"Blaine?" Ethan calls hesitantly.

Blaine's bag is lying on the ground by the elevator. The two siblings look at each other, and then back around the room. It remains obstenatly empty.

"Great." Julia sighs. "Now the family is going to scar him for life and _neither_ of us are going to exist."

* * *

><p>AN; As always, please let me know what you think! :)

We meet some more of the Gleeks in the next chapter, don't worry.

Until then,

commontater


	6. Elevator Rides

Okay, long note first, then more story.

1) Oy vey, I am very late with this update. If anyone is reading this, I apologize for keeping you waiting. .

2) I'm not sure how frequently I'll be able to update for a while- real life is consuming all my time. But I promise that I won't forget!

3) I don't want to be a stand-offish author- I don't write alot here because my humor/thought process doesn't translate very well onto paper (or screen, what have you.) and I tend to sound either very awkward or very formal when trying to write out my own thoughts. But if anyone is reading this, I honestly do want to hear from you! I'm not just saying that, I swear. Even if it's just 'hi' or some other similar monosyllabic contact, it seriously makes my day.

Alright, enough with that. You're not here to have me type at you. Here, enjoy.

* * *

><p>Blaine presses the button with a red car on it that replaces the eleventh floor.<p>

The doors ding open and Blaine steps out into and empty hallway. This floor actually _looks_ like an apartment building or hotel. Clutching the flask, Blaine walks a few steps and opens a door.

"Hello?"

The room is empty; the furniture is covered with white dust-cloths. There is no dust, however, and a framed picture of an older couple is on the table by the door- it's not exactly warm and welcoming, but there is no creeping emptiness in these rooms like there is at Blaine's grandmother's house.

He edges back down the hallway and summons the elevator again. _Ding_.

This time he presses the cheerful smiley face that had caught his attention. The red baseball cap falls into his face again as the doors close.

* * *

><p>Julia and Ethan race down the hall to the end room.<p>

"I am so glad that Pops insisted on this." Ethan says as they dash through the door.

The room is empty except for a variety of ladders, slides,and metal poles of different colors in a line along one wall. Each slide and/or metal pole has a corresponding ladder in matching colors and/or patterns. Julia races over to a spiral purple slide, then pauses, looking over at a straight steel slide.

"Do you think U-A will be in?"

"Nah, Auntie Em'll be our best bet."

Ethan jumps past her to the purple slide, disappearing with a whoop. Julia sighs,then follows him.

* * *

><p><em>Ding.<em>

The doors open to a wide, warm wooden hall. Blaine instantly feels welcomed and at ease. A long mirror takes up the upper half of the left wall and large blue-glass vases of sunflowers stand every few yards along the wall with the overall effect is very bright, pleasant, and warm.

"Hello?" Blaine calls."Is anybody here?"

A figure appears at the end of the hall walking towards him.

"Excuse me, um, I…"

"No time, he-hobbit." The woman says briskly, not looking up from her phone. She is striking; her fine Latino features and dark sleek hair contrasting sharply with her red dress and spiked heels. She is equal parts mezmerising and terrifying. The woman steps into the elevator without looking at him,calling down the hall while still focused on her phone.

"Brit! Hobbit _dos_ is here! Help him out would you?" The doors slide shut and the woman disappears with a cheerful _ding!_.

Blaine wonders if everyone in the future is this confusing or if it's just in this building that people speak in code. He turns back to the hallway. A tall blonde woman is cartwheeling down the hall towards him. He steps back as she bounces upright directly in front of him, smiling,and immediately pulls him into a crushing hug.

"Blaine! I didn't think that you were back for another week!" She lets him go, still smiling broadly at him.

"Um." He's not sure how to respond. People in the future shouldn't recognize him. He's seen enough sci-fi movies to recognize that this is a bad thing.

"I'm not Blaine." He says, putting on his best show face. "I'm friend of Evan's from Westerville. I'm up visiting for the weekend."

The woman blinks at him.

"Is this some sort of game where we all change our names?"

Blaine wonders if he's this strange and confusing in the future and if he should be worried about his future self. The woman narrows her eyes and puts her face very close to his, her blue eyes scrutinizing him.

"Oh." She springs back, pouting slightly. "You're not _my _Blaine yet, you're not even Blaine Warbler yet." She sighs. "I guess you haven't met me yet then. I'm Brittany. And the lady who just left is my Santana. She gives me sweet lady kisses."Britney adds.

"Oh." Blaine blinks, then what she's said sinks in. "Brittany, look, you can't tell people that I'm not your Blaine. I could get in a lot of trouble if people find out, so can you please keep it a secret?"

Britney just laughs.

"Of course,silly! I'll even pinky promise on it if it'll make you feel better."

"It really would."

Brittany holds out her pinky and Blaine links it with his free hand. They shake once and then let go.

"So, Brittany," He holds up the smoking green flask. "I'm supposed to get this to 'cedes'. Do you know who or where that is?"

She smiles brightly. "Of course I do! Everyone knows where 'Cedes lives! Let's go the fun way though."

She bends backwards and starts to do backflips down the hall. Blaine hurries after her, trying to keep up and not spill the green liquid everywhere.

* * *

><p>They land with a thump in a room almost identical to the one two floors above. Ethan clambers off of the slide before Julia hits him. She follows after her brother as he charges out the door.<p>

"Auntie 'Em, Auntie 'Em!" He calls.

"There's no place like home! There's not place like home! Amber, put that down afore I beats you with it!"

They follow the jovial voice down to the kitchen.

Mercedes Jones looks the same as she did in high school, granted a few more wrinkles and record music awards decorate her shelves. Flour is currently decorating her and her kitchen and she's in the middle of dusting herself off as Julia and Ethan walk in. A small eight year old pouts in one of the kitchen chairs, a powdery wisk clutched in one of her hands.

"Give that here, Amber." Mercedes takes the wisk aways and puts it in the proper bowl it's supposed to be mixing. Dusting her hands off,she turns to her visitors. "Well, you two are early! Family dinner ain't for a few hours yet."

Evan took a deep breath and grinned appreciatively. Friday Night Family Dinners were a tradition that his dad had brought up. Every Friday, everyone that could would get together at someone's house or apartment and they would have dinner. Exactly what it sounded like. Ethan's favorites nights were when Auntie Em hosted; she didn't get to a whole lot because of her tour schedule, but whenever she did it was hands down the best food that anyone in the family cooked. His dad would probably get mad if he ever heard Evan say that, but he cooked fancy stuff that Evan couldn't pronounce. Julia liked it when Tina and Mike hosted; Mike was limited in his cooking (strictly Asian recipes) but what he did make was good. Sometimes really weird- Evan had refused to eat the squid that had moved when the soy sauce had been poured over it. When Sam hosted they usually ended up eating soup or stew thrown together over an ancient bunsen burner in the corner of the lab. Noah wasn't in town a whole lot, but when he was they all had pizza night or went to the kosher deli down the street.

"We know, we just had a quick question." Julia says quickly. "You haven't had any weird visitors today, have you?"

Mercedes frowns at them, slapping at Ethan's hand when he tries to sneak some gravy.

"No, why?"

"No reason!" Julia squeaks.

"I have a friend over from Ohio, and I think he might've gotten lost on the elevator." Ethan supplies.

It wasn't even a lie, technically. Ethan knew that Auntie Em would see through anything he tried to make up. They heave internal sighs of relief when she relaxes and chuckles.

"Well, I haven't seen him, but you'd better find him quick, otherwise he might get pulled into some crazy project or get on the wrong side of 'Tana."

"Thanks, Auntie Em!" Julia calls as they tear off to the elevator.

* * *

><p>Blaine stares at the strange room.<p>

Ladders and slides of various colors are in a line along one wall. Each ladder has a corresponding slide/fireman's pole. Brittany moves towards a purple ladder, but then changes course and grabs a black and white striped ladder excitedly.

"C'mon! Tike has their swing on! It's my favorite!" She vanishes up the ladder.

Blaine follows awkwardly,trying to balance climbing, carrying the awful green flask, and stopping the stupidly big hat from sliding into his eyes. He finds himself in a room just like the one he's just come from. Brittany is waiting for him, bouncing excitedly.

"C'mon!" She bounces out of the room and down a hallway. When he catches up to Brittany, he finds her in a dance studio dancing with an asian couple to loud swing swing music. The couple are twirling each other in complicated maneuvers, smiling and laughing. Brittany dances by herself for a moment, and then the asian man twirls over to her and they start dancing. Blaine watches in amazement as they seem to defy gravity.

The asian woman watches them for a moment, catching her breath and laughing before spotting Blaine. She walks over to stand next to him.

"Great aren't they?" She shouts to him over the music, then gestures that she'll continue when the song is over.

Blaine just stares, slack-jawed, as Brittany and the asian man twist and jive. At one point it seems that neither of them are touching the ground as they dance. The song ends with a blare of trumpets and a smashing drum and the two performers seem barely winded. Blaine finds himself applauding wildly, the flask tucked under his arm. The dancers turn, Brittany beaming, the man amused, and they take a bow before walking over to a small alcove where a water cooler is. The woman next to him continues talking as if they hadn't just seen a performance that blew Blaines mind.

"I'm Tina, and that's my husband, Mike." She says, smiling over at the two dancers, who are chattering together over their drinks. Blaine readjusts the flask, still in awe of the performance he just saw.

"Where did they learn to dance like that?"

"Well, they were already really good in high school, but Julliard, for Mike, and the Paris School of Dance for Brittany. It's a good thing Kurt speaks fluent French. I mean, Brit picked it up soon enough,but…"

Brittany bounces back over to them, interrupting.

"What did you think of Mike and my's dancing? We have to keep up being the best dancers ever, otherwise our students won't listen to us."

Tina elaborates. "Brit and Mike are the best choreographers on Broadway." She states. Mike walks over to them, smiling shyly at Tina's remark.

"Don't be silly, sweetheart, there are plenty of great choreographers out there."

"Yeah, but you and Brit are the best." Tina replies, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss on her husbands nose.

"It's true. I'm more talented than all of them." Brittany says matter-of-factly. Tina glances at the clock.

"I'm supposed to go help with dinner. I'll se you later everyone!" and then she's off.

Mike waves to his wife and turns back to Britney and Blaine.

"Who's your friend, Brit? She didn't grab you off the street, did she?" Mike directs the second question to Blaine, seeming mildly concerned.

"…no?" Blaine answers, glancing over at Brittany, who laughs and grabs Blaine's hand.

"This is Evan's friend Lane, from Ohio, he's over for the weekend. We're going to 'Cedes place."

Mike relaxes slightly. Britney pulls Blaine out of the studio.

"Bye Mike! See you later!"

"...purple!" Blaine thinks he hears Mike shout as Britney pulls him to the elevator.

* * *

><p><em>Ding!<em>

The doors open for Julia and Ethan only for them to find an irate Santana, who eyes them beadily.

"I should be in the lobby."

"You didn't push the button." Ethan says, leaning past her to press the proper one. "Hey, Auntie Tana, you haven't seen…"

"He-hobbit? Yeah, Brit was going to give him directions. I've gotta go."

The doors open for a split second before Santana jams the button to shut them again.

"That was not the lobby." She goes back to her phone. Julia and Ethan glare at her.

"Brittany and my friend were standing right there!" Ethan says angrily.

"They can take a slide." Santana says, unconcerned, as doors open again. "See you later, mini-hobbit _uno_, Lady K."

The doors slide shut behind her with a cheery _ding!_.


End file.
